The Aftermath
by thephangirlinghoneybear
Summary: A story I wrote for my english practice. Post end of Berlin. What is Ziva thinking whilst she is waiting in the wreck of the car? It was written before Revenge so nothing that happened in that episode is included. Full reasons why inside. TIVA please review! Thank you!


**We were in English and the task was 'Describe a situation where you were afraid' now I'd just seen the episode Berlin with my friend (in the science labs on the massive screen with popcorn, haribos and pizza from the dining hall, pretty sweet deal) and I had a lot of feels and emotions going on and I decided to take the opportunity to write a bit of FanFiction. I wrote this before Revenge aired so I know some things aren't right, my plan was to post it sooner but my English teacher takes so long to mark stuff! I don't own NCIS or the characters but I do own my very own Bert…does that count? **

I reach for his hand in the darkness. Nothing but emptiness. Pain has me in its grasp. The firm handshake becoming unbearable as my head clears. He held my hand. He was about to say something. What was he going to say? I am afraid. I am afraid that nobody will find us here. I am afraid that he will die.

I can remember only vaguely what happened only a few short minutes ago. I confided in him about my past. About my father and Orli. About how afraid I was that we would not catch the man who killed my father. He comforted me. He held my hand, his fingers interlaced with mine. He promised me that we would get him. I was no longer afraid. Crash. Bang. Flash. He screams my name as the other car smashes into us. Black. Everything went black. I am afraid that he will never wake up. I am afraid that we will never get out.

I can hear sirens. A saviour. I try to move to signal our presence but the weight of the heavy monster pressing down is too much for my weakened body to bear. The monster creaks and growls and for a fleeting moment I believe that he will crush us before giving them a chance to save us.

I look to my right. He was driving. His head has a long, thin slash along his forehead, like a snake sitting atop his master's head. I look to his hand. The same hand that was grasping mine so effortlessly just a few moments ago. There are four small marks along the top of his hand from where my nails dug in. Instinctively I had used him as a lifeline. He will always be my lifeline.

I can see them now. I did not realise that a human being could be in this much pain. A tear falls down my blood-stained cheeks. The first of many. A man heaves, pulls and kicks the door to try and get to us. His yellow jacket glinting in the moonlight. I can only zone out. I am afraid. I am afraid that we will not be released. We have come this far together. We cannot give up now. They leave. Bo back to their truck "no! Please help us. You cannot leave us here afraid of what the future holds!" I want to scream at them but the tears are a barrier. If I say anything, if I open my mouth, I will look weak. I am not weak. Neither is he and together we are stronger than any elephant, than any monster. The man comes back towards us holding an axe. Usually this would scare me. It is impossible to be more afraid.

The man lifts the axe above his head. The metal tip catching the light for just a second. It looks like an angel, coming down from the skies above to rescue us. As it slices through the monster as a knife slips through butter I believe I hear it scream. It has been defeated. As the axe slices through the hull of the car it bursts the bubble I have had myself in. The pain is now unbearable.

The man reaches in to the now roofless car and opens the door. He places one arm under my legs and the other over my shoulders and under my arms. He lifts me up and out of the car and, for the first time, I realise the extent of the damage. The car appears to be a bad essay that someone has discarded and missed the waste paper bin.

They place me on a stretcher with a woman who gives me a mask full of air to help me breathe. I cannot breathe. I am too afraid. They do to him as they did to me and as they lift him out of the car I do not see him move. He cannot be dead. As they place him next to me on a separate stretcher I look for his chest rising and falling. It's there. Only just, like a baby's whisper but I see it move and breathe a sigh of relief.

His hand falls off the stretcher and I grab hold of it. I grasp it effortlessly, our fingers entwining once more. I am no longer afraid. Somebody has found us. I do not need to know what he was about to say. Everything has been said in the silence. He is not going to die. I look up to the pinpricks of light in the sky far, far above us. We are not weak. If anything: we are stronger.


End file.
